Proof at last
by emeritus47
Summary: Jenny-related oneshot. A memory, a clue and a silent participant


Jenny was staring at the item with liquid eyes.

A thundering, tantalizing mission was finally over and now, she found herself looking back, second-guessing herself for no good reason other than to feel ...something, anything.

_"When the job is done walk away". "Don't get personally involved in a case"_, she could almost hear Jethro reciting those rules to her, the rules she had the most trouble with.

But she could never really let go. Of anything really. She had always known she was one of those people who could never let themselves relax, forget and forgive and move on.

No. She needed the thrill of the chase, she needed to have someone to hate, she needed the adrenaline that accompanies undercover operations, she needed the heart-racing , pulse rising drug-mimicking rush, which would leave her breathless in the end but more often than not, with a mere distraction from her own personal demons.

She could her the words of her father echoing in her now pounding hea_d."The first flaw in my happiness was the day I stopped telling friend from foe"_

She remember the day Jasper Shepard spoke these words. He was in his beloved study, undoubtedly heading towards the small rectangular wooden box that his daughter could easily recognize as the jewelry box that once belonged to her mother.

For some reason little Jenny stopped paying attention to her father at this point but, instead, she focused on the man her father was talking to. _"Perhaps I can throw some light upon your suspicions, my friend"_, she heard the other man retort and she couldn't help but shiver at the sound of his french-accented seemed eager to help her dad, his eyes sparking with feverish anticipation for the other man's response.

_"I am glad to have met you Rene"_ Shepard stated simply as he reached out to take manila envelope that mr. Benoit was handing him.

_"I cannot understand the Agency's reluctance to hear the facts that you have presented to them. They do not give you enough credit, but, luckily for the both of us the D.o.D. is more lenient towards remorseful miscreants"_ continued Colonel Shepard, carefully masking a veiled contempt with genuine looking compliments.

Back then Jenny was sure that the two men were somehow involved in a long term operation between an overseas business and the Pentagon, an operation that the CIA refused to take part in.

She could still remember the feeling of sheer pride in her father's accomplishments, his position in the military, his role in shaping international relations. His posture of authority that was so intimidating to others made her smile every time.

She always loved making speculations about her dad's involvement in top secret, code word or higher clearance missions. In retrospect she wished she had discussed with her father what he thought was the endgame of his job, what would it take for him to walk away...That is one of her many questions that was never meant to be answered.

_"I am sorry to cut off your view, senorita_" Noemi said in a low voice as she approached Jenny poking her a little as to reprimand her for spying on the Colonel's business.

That was the last thing Jenny remembers of that peculiar meeting.

Her head was still pounding but instead of keep going over that bazaar, puzzling conversation between the man that she loved more than life itself and the man that she hated so deeply that caused her to question the very nature of one's ability to stay sane when faced with the ever present thirst for revenge, she decided to find that wooden box.

And now she was staring at it.

She had to break its seal to open it because it had gotten rusty. Inside it there a few items hugged by the leather interior. Among those she immediately recognized one of the most precious possessions of her childhood self that , at some point must have fallen in disuse.

The one family heirloom that was entrusted to her at an early age, her locket. She opened it and she remembered the picture of her father hugging her before she saw it.

And then her eyes fell on a small, wrinkled piece of paper, with fading but still legible lettering. She picked it up carefully, a genuine smile appearing on her face as she thought that this was as close as she would get to receiving a message from the grave.

Her brows furrowed as she suddenly realized that it was her own penmanship. The note was simple yet indecipherable to her. She read it again and again but she didn't seem to achieve any clarity on the issue. She tried once more, out loud this time.

**_"A break in the chain is fixing the nets in the red circle"_**

**_"82400-3292-6489"_**

And just like that she put the pieces of the puzzle together. She was now sobbing uncontrollably. But she knew how to prove her father's innocence and restore his reputation.

For one last time her beloved daddy had given her what she needed, what she had been so desperately searching for...

Answers, closure and a chance to move on, experience a different kind of love, this time around with the silver-haired man whose sleeping form was currently occupying the study's brown leather couch.

_A/N the code is an amalgamation of three Sherlock Holmes' story titles, and the numeric sequence is Decker's insurance policy with each digit substituted with itself plus one. Thought it would seem fitting._


End file.
